


and i want you to know

by pxint



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 14:09:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxint/pseuds/pxint
Summary: Over the phone, Noah’s voice is unclear when he says, “I got traded.”(“Matty, hey, can you hear me?”“Yeah, I — I just think I heard that wrong.”)





	and i want you to know

**Author's Note:**

> not to go back to /that trade/ after a year but i’m suddenly feeling very strongly about these two 
> 
> title from “feelings mutual” by lil uzi vert

Over the phone, Noah’s voice is unclear when he says, “I got traded.” 

It sounds like he specifically stepped out into a windstorm before calling Matt, like making this conversation as difficult as possible was a priority higher than actually _talking_ to him. 

Noah says, “Matty, hey, can you hear me?” 

And Matt wants to tell him no, because technically he can’t, but he’s picking up bits and pieces. He’s making it work.

“Yeah, I—I just think I heard that wrong.”

“Did you hear the part about me being a Flame?” Noah asks, and Matt can’t see his face, clearly, but he can hear the smile on his lips. The way his voice lifts into something pleased, and Matt swallows his own tongue.

He rolls his eyes, but his fingers are drumming restlessly against the coffee table in front of him. He wants to believe it, he wants to believe it, he just doesn’t. 

“Shut up, seriously, this isn’t funny.”

Noah laughs into the phone, big and bright like he isn’t stealing the air from Matt’s lungs. It’s always been easy for him, to get Matt hung up, but this is completely different.

“Call me back when the articles come out,” Noah says. His voice is cutting in and out, every other syllable is absent. “I have bad service I’m gonna go—“ 

When Noah’s voice cuts out, Matt glances down at his phone just to check if he’s still there. He’s not. It feels weird and open ended.

“Okay,” Matt says, to no one in particular. 

-

At 2 AM, he walks into the kitchen just to see Noah making an omelette. He doesn’t say anything to him, he doesn’t have the energy to. Instead, he walks right up to the fridge and fills up a glass of water. 

He takes a sip. Another. And flips this over in his head. 

“Hey,” Matt says, calmly. “What the fuck are you doing.” 

“It’s technically morning,” Noah defends. “I wanted an omelette so I’m eating an omelette. Don’t be mad because I have better ideas than you.”

Matt watches him for a moment. He nods his head. “Cool, so, I’m gonna go back to sleep and pretend this was a dream.”

“For sure, man.”

-

Noah mutes the TV. His hands are shaking. 

Matt’s watching and watching and Noah looks like he’s barely breathing, his phone pressed right against the side of his face. 

“Hanny,” Matt says, quiet.

“I need a minute,” he breathes, and steps out of the room. 

Matt doesn’t eavesdrop because he isn’t like that, but he sits there stuck in place like someone dropped a brick on his shoulders. It feels awful.

-

Noah’s blasting something on his phone when Matt steps into their hotel room. It’s loud, obnoxious, and too much for Matt to deal with this early in the morning. Especially after getting his ear chewed off by Luke down at breakfast. 

“Noah, please, turn that off,” he says, shoulders slumped as he walks in. 

He’s not graceful when he lets himself fall down against the bed. Noah looks at him like he’s deaf. Maybe then the volume of the music would make sense.

He turns it down a few, not all the way, but enough that there’s some peace. “I told you not to stay up all night watching Netflix, you brought this onto yourself.”

-

“I like you a lot,” Noah says, leaning into Matt’s space. He smiles and his face is flushed this rosy pink, it’s peppered all across his skin. Matt wants to see how low it goes. 

Noah’s only had half a drink and they’re only eighteen, sure, but neither of them are lightweights. It makes Matt’s pulse jump. 

“I like you, too,” he says, shamelessly, and grabs his hand under the table.

-

“Can we take, like, the quickest detour over to Costco. Real fast, it’ll be less than thirty seconds.” 

Matt glances over. He keeps his hand steady on the wheel but he definitely considers swerving off a bridge. 

“Do you know where Costco is.” He raises his eyebrows at him. “Like, halfway across the city. That is _not_ thirty seconds. Seriously.” 

Noah frowns and Matt can admit it’s a weakness to see him mopey, but. It’s still a no.

“They’ve got their cool little energy balls back in stock and I haven’t had time to actually. You know. Step out of the house,” he says. “This is the perfect opportunity.”

“We’re gonna be way late to Johnny’s place.” 

Noah blows out a breath of air. “Does Johnny have energy balls?” He asks, almost impatient. 

Matt will turn this whole damn car around. 

“No?” He sighs. “That doesn’t even matter, you can get them tomorrow —“ 

Noah gets pouty. Like, somewhere within the range of a toddler and a first grader who got handed an apple on halloween. Matt bites back the urge to just hit the gas and head right over to Johnny’s, but.

“Fine,” he says, flicking on his turn signal. 

-

The theatre chairs lean back far enough that Noah’s taking full advantage of sitting at the very back row. There’s a soft childish excitement on his face. 

“The last time I was in a theatre, I didn’t even get to finish the movie,” Noah says, screwing his face up into disapproval. He turns to look at Matt. “Because I got traded.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Matt says, popping an M&M into his mouth. “I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, way to ruin a perfectly good movie.”

“Worst decision of the year,” Matt says, shaking his head.

Noah grins. 

-

Matt’s sixteen. 

Noah’s underneath the blanket with him and the flashlight in his grip shines bright, bright against the book in his hands. 

He’s laying back against the bed and Noah’s words are almost too quiet for him to catch them, but it’s nice, even hearing the hum of his voice. The soft ups and downs, the way he reads with this raw care.

Matt closes his eyes. He swears he sees stars.

-

Noah goes to BC.

Matt goes to the OHL.

They never actually talk about it.

-

“We should try,” Noah says, his hand tight on Matt’s waist. “We should try this. You should —“

He never gets the words quite out, because Matt kisses him and it’s weird. It’s different. It’s not bad it’s. 

The problem is that it’s good. The problem is that they’re in a hotel room on a floor with the rest of their teammates and Matt’s got Noah pushed against the door in a room that isn’t even _his_. 

He doesn’t want to stop. 

-

At 12 AM on December 11th, Matt gets startled out of his sleep by his phone blaring his ringtone. He scrambles to grab it and press it to his ear. It doesn’t give him enough time to check the caller ID, but that’s the last thing on his mind. 

He can’t get a word in, before, “Hey, happy birthday! How old are you now? Four?” 

Matt grumbles and leans back against the headboard of his bed. It’s Noah.

“That’s rich coming from an old bag like you,” he says, and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling. 

“You know what this means, right,” Noah sounds excited, like he’s practically jumping out of his seat. “We drive up to Canada, get drunk off our _asses_ , have the time of our lives. You’re legal there, now.” 

Matt rolls his eyes. “I’m too tired to get drunk.”

“You’re lying,” Noah says, accusatory. “We’re making plans.”

“Fine, fine, okay. In the morning, we’ll talk.”

“In the morning, yeah.” He can hear Noah’s smile through the phone. “Good night, Matty. Happy birthday.”

-

The first time they kiss after Noah gets traded to the Flames is early in the morning, right before a practice. There’s hazy sunlight trickling in through the windows in the kitchen and Noah’s got something soft playing on the radio. 

Matt walks in, tired, lazy, and pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he says, lifting the mug towards Noah, and he smiles at him. The corners of his eyes crinkle up. He’s beautiful. 

“No problem,” Noah says, and. Maybe it’s in the heat of the moment that Noah puts this warm hand on his shoulder. It’s like a brand. Hot, hot, hot even through Matt’s shirt and. 

He leans in just to peck the corner of his lips. Matt’s left staring for a second, too caught off guard to make anything of that. 

Noah says, “Sorry, I just.” He doesn’t finish that. Matt doesn’t need him to.

“No, it’s. It’s fine.”

He’s got a cup of coffee in his hands and he feels like he’s standing on ice, but he stills sways in just to return the kiss. For just a little longer, enough for his hand to curl around the back of Noah’s neck.

Noah pulls back first. He smiles. He says, “Oh. Wow.”

-

“I love your curls,” Noah says, stroking a hand over Matt’s hair. It’s too long, half damp from the pool, and drying frizzy, but the interest on Noah’s face is sweet.

Their feet are dipped into the side of the pool. The sun is hitting Noah’s skin perfectly.

“I bet you do,” Matt says, and leans in to kiss Noah’s collarbone. He knows his hair tickles Noah’s jaws because he lets out this breathy laugh. 

“I _do_ ,” he says, and gives it the lightest tug the next time he touches it. 

Matt doesn’t say anything about the fire that sets off in his stomach.

-

They’re not dating. 

They live together and they’ll make out on the couch and sometimes, _sometimes_ , they’ll end up in each other’s beds, but they’re not dating.

Noah takes him out for dinner, and they walk around in cities where nobody knows their names with their fingers intertwined, but they’re not dating.

Hearing Noah’s voice makes Matt’s heart jump, getting to be around him makes him feel real, every minute he spends with Noah feels like the best moments of his life, but they’re not dating. 

Nobody else is around and Noah says, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you again.”

And Matt realizes he’s loved Noah for years.

-

Matt brushes his teeth while Noah’s showering. Occasionally, Noah will belt out a random lyric from _Singin’ in The Rain_ and Matt nearly swallows some toothpaste. 

“You sound great,” Matt calls out, and Noah laughs over the spray of water. 

“I‘ve been practicing!”

-

The windows are rolled down. The wind is roaring in his ears. Noah’s ripping down the highway and Matt’s got the music going as loud as he can get it. 

There’s something so freeing about it. He never road trips anymore, not when an airplane can get him somewhere in about a quarter of the time driving will. But Noah said, “let’s drive out to Vancouver,“ and Matt just couldn’t tell him no.

But it’s perfect. It’s brand new and incredible and everything about soaring along empty roads feels liberating like nothing else ever will. 

Matt breathes in the cool air and he feels real.

-

The gas station they pull into has little novelty knick knacks and trinkets. Matt tries not to get too distracted while Noah’s buying their iced coffee. 

He turns to face him, and Noah’s holding up a little totem pole keychain. “This one looks like you,” he says, grinning.

-

“Tell me something about yourself,” Noah says. He’s warm between the sheets, legs tangled up with Matt’s.

It’s too hot. Welcome to Calgary. 

“You know everything about me,” Matt insists, and dips in just to press his lips to Noah’s. Just to feel him. To know he has him.

“There’s no way,” Noah says.

And Matt bites back, “I love you.” He doesn’t say, “you mean everything to me.”

He flops onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “I think avocado toast is for nerds,” he says, and Noah scoffs. 

-

For now, he thinks, they’re okay where they are. They’re moving slow, oh-so-slow, but they’re moving. And Matt likes him with Noah, he likes them together. 

He says as much.

Noah’s lips twitch up into a smile. He’s always so bright. “This is perfect,” he agrees. 

Then it’s his hand on Matt’s, and Matt’s joy bubbles in his chest.


End file.
